Crescendo
by Juliediane
Summary: Adrina, a female elf, loves Haldir and awaits his seduction of her with eager anticipation.


Title: CRESCENDO  
  
Author: Julie  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: I write fan fiction solely for my own enjoyment and do not claim any copyright or ownership nor do I have intent to make financial gain. All original concepts and characters are from my minds and remain my property.  
  
Warnings: Sex (tasteful, I hope)  
  
Cast: Haldir/OFC, Orophin  
  
Timeline: A.U., not following movie verse; Haldir Always Lives!  
  
Summary: Adrina, a female elf, loves Haldir and awaits his seduction of her with eager anticipation.  
  
Author's Note: Completed work. Just a short story, written for fun for a fic challenge. Thank you for the feedback on this story! I truly appreciate it.  
  
~*~  
  
CRESCENDO  
  
She had been on edge all night, waiting to see if he would make his move.  
  
It had been building for centuries, this tension between them, starting with the friendship that had ripened into gentle flirtation and caring. Following that had come the looks he had given her, subtle male looks that conveyed he was thinking about her in a new way, a way that created an intimate, unspoken tension. Delicious, exhilarating tension growing year after year, pumping her blood faster and faster each time she saw him, each meeting between them eclipsing that which had come before. And never passing beyond flirtation or a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Others had pursued her, sought her favors, tried to court her. But she had never given them aught but friendship, for she preferred to see what would come to pass with Haldir. She really had no other choice; she yearned for no other elf but him, and though her friends told her that it was senseless to wait, that he would never commit himself to her and only her, she knew better. It would happen. It must.  
  
Tonight, each time she looked at him, his face was averted, yet when she glanced away, she could feel the caress of his gaze. It was a game he had been playing with her of late.  
  
He liked games. He'd admitted it.  
  
"Adrina?" Orophin said, attempting to draw her closer. His strong arm encircled her waist as he spun her around the hard-packed earth in a lively elvish dance. Above them, the canopy of leaves rustled softly in the evening breeze, whispering to the secrets in her soul. "Let us go somewhere where we can be alone. What do you say, love?"  
  
Warmed by his lighthearted offer, she smiled up into his ice blue eyes. "No," she said, "for we both know what would follow, Orophin. And that would not do. You know that."  
  
"Do I?" he asked, a laugh in his eye. "What would follow?"  
  
Tonight both Rúmil and Orophin had danced with her, flirted with her, and had even been trying to seduce her. And while she smiled and flirted with them and others, Haldir stood across the clearing, his solid arms folded over his chest while he conversed with a visiting member of Lord Elrond's council. To one who did not know him, he seemed uninterested in the romping frivolity around him, perhaps even a little bored. But she knew he was conscious of her every move. That piercing gaze missed nothing.  
  
She wondered if Haldir had told his brothers to do this, to test her in some way so he might assess her steadfastness to him. It was possible, for his nature was guarded and cautious, yet if it was so, she was amused rather than insulted for it suggested he was unsure of her. And if true, she loved him all the more for it. The March Warden of Lothlórien, renowned warrior, guardian of his people, skilled diplomat and emissary was unsure of her? That tickled her just a bit. And his brothers would do anything for him; he had that ability, to bind others to him in unquestioning loyalty and absolute devotion. It was what made him such a superior leader. It was one thing she loved about him.  
  
Yes, she loved him more than life itself. He was conceited, arrogant, haughty, and often lacking in tact; at the same time he was even- tempered, patient, reasonable, kind, and, when he chose to be, exceedingly witty. She loved his flaws and his strengths and his idiosyncrasies. He could be as harsh and ruthless as an Orc or as gentle as music from a harp string; she had seen all sides of him, the contrasts, the multitude of layers that made up his complex personality, and she loved every facet of him.  
  
Tonight would be the night. She could feel it in her bones, the crashing certainty that they were both ready to take their relationship to the next stage. In the past weeks leading up to this night's revelry, he had been playing a new game with her, a subtle game not articulated, one that involved intuition and desire. It was nothing substantial, and yet she felt it, like the wind on her cheek, caressing her body with its carnal promise.  
  
Pressing a hand to her breast, she sent Orophin away and retreated into an alcove between two trees. Typically, Haldir ignored such festivities and seldom danced, even with her, and she wondered whether tonight would be different. She moved back into the shadows, and sank down upon a bench carved from the root of the great mallorn tree above, resting her head against its trunk.  
  
She knew it would be tonight and she was ready, excitement rippling through her like a strong current in a dark and dangerous river. Even now, warmth collected between her thighs as her finely tuned senses readied themselves for his exploration. He was an expert lover, she had heard that time and again. He had never spoken to her of such things; he had kept his amorous adventures far away from her ears, but he must realize she knew of them. Her friends made certain she did. She did not care. He was hers, and sooner or later he would surrender and admit it.  
  
She closed her eyes, smiling faintly as she thought of him, of how magnificent his body would be, how it would feel to have him at last in her arms. What would it be like to have him buried deep within her? The mere idea sent a flash of heat simmering along her nerve endings.  
  
How much time passed before she felt the brush of his lips? It seemed but a moment or two and he was there, seated beside her, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Adrina," he said simply.  
  
Without thinking twice, she turned toward him and smoothed a strand of pale hair from his cheek, tucking it behind his peaked ear. Few maidens would have dared take such a liberty with this high-ranking elf, but she did not hesitate. She saw his smile increase, and knew he enjoyed such ministrations from her.  
  
"So, my dear friend, are we going to dance?" she asked lightly.  
  
"Yes, we will dance." He reached out to trace the line of her jaw with his fingertip, his eyes warm and full of mischief . . . and something else.  
  
"Now?" She made as if to rise, but his hand stopped her.  
  
"No, not now."  
  
She glanced at him in surprise, then her breath caught. "When, then?"  
  
He had retained his hold of her hand, and now lifted it to his lips. Looking into her eyes, he kissed her fingers, one at a time, moistening each as he worked his way over their tips. "Later. When the moon is at its fullest and the stars shine their brightest."  
  
Understanding, she shuddered with longing. "Tell me of this dance."  
  
He pressed his lips to her palm. "The dance I am thinking of begins slowly," he said, "a medley of movement and fluidity. Its pace varies according to the desire and skill of the dancers, their importance to each other, and how well partnered they are. Its rhythm can range from slow to tumultuous, but," he feathered kisses across her wrist, "it always ends in a crescendo that pounds the heart and leaves the dancers aloft, unburdened by cares and concerns. It is a dance that heals and renews. It can be exquisite."  
  
She locked her gaze on his beloved face, studying the wise gray eyes, the dark brows, the confident chin, the proud nose, the firm, sensual lips. At that moment, he awed her; he was both known and unknown, her dear friend and an exotic stranger. A shelter from the storm and the storm itself. "It is not a dance I have learned," she said quietly.  
  
He rose gracefully to his feet. "Come," he said, and held out his hand. "It is time you did."  
  
A blanket of sensual awareness tingled Adrina's flesh as they strolled through the quiet pathways of Caras Galadhon. Haldir's arm encircled her waist, his hand settled possessively on her hip, and if anyone saw them, their intentions were probably apparent. She did not care. Heedless of any watchers, they climbed the steps to her talan, high in the trees on the northern side of the city.  
  
Inside her home, they faced each other in the shadows, her room lit only by a ribbon of moonlight filtering through the branches outside her window. She stepped closer to him, her heart thudding with anticipation, thinking once more of the tales of his sexual prowess. And on impulse, she probed the matter.  
  
"Why?" she said. "Why others and not me?"  
  
He understood at once what she was asking.  
  
"Night madness," he said. "The whim of the moment. When I thirst, I drink, and what I drink matters not. Except for you. You always matter to me, Adrina."  
  
"You are thirsty now?" she whispered, her head tilting back.  
  
"I am parched." He moved slowly toward her, his bold eyes alight with his longing "And you, my beloved, are a waterfall of enchantment to me. No one makes me feel as you do. You are an elixir to my senses even when we are parted. I want you. I have long wanted to drink you and drown myself in you. You are my quest and my queen. I seek you above all others."  
  
"Why?" she asked again, fascinated by his words.  
  
He looked amused. "Some things just are, my love. It has always been so between us. Surely you knew? I did not think I had made it a secret."  
  
"Yes, I knew," she admitted, touching his hair. She slid her fingers through its sensuous softness until she found the warmth of his neck; even his neck held strength, she could feel the corded muscle leading down into his powerful shoulders. "I have always known. It has sustained me all these long years while I waited."  
  
"The waiting was a measure of the sustenance." She could hear the smile in his voice. "The waiting was the beginning, the foreplay. The rehearsal for the dance."  
  
"A long rehearsal, Haldir," she said, rather tartly.  
  
"Because there will never be an end, " he reminded her. "You know this, do you not?"  
  
"Yes, I know this," she said dreamily, leaning against his chest.  
  
"I have enjoyed our game all these years. I have thought of you often, too often perhaps. Many are the nights I have ached for you, imagining us together. Imagining how it would feel to have you beneath me, to lose myself in you. I did not seek you out because it was too soon. It would have spoiled this erotic game we have been playing."  
  
"I have imagined such things also," she admitted. "Many times. Many nights."  
  
"I know. I could see it in your eyes. I could feel your desire, and it has been . . . affecting me, shall we say." He smiled wickedly, then took her face between his hands and gazed deeply into her eyes. "I know you have been true to me, though I have not asked it of you. And from this moment on, I will be yours alone. If you will have me."  
  
"Yes, I will have you." She twined her arms around his neck, delighted tremors eddying through her body. "Now, please, teach me to dance."  
  
A satisfied smile grew on his face. "It will be my pleasure."  
  
He did not kiss her at once, as she had thought he would, but instead began to trail his lips over her face, an erotic investigation that in no way resembled the chaste kisses he had given her on other occasions. Quivering, she placed her hands on his chest, locating his heartbeat, her fingers automatically curling into the fabric of his tunic in order to steady herself. His light, skimming touch moved over her features as if memorizing them, brushing the surface of her lips, the tips of her ears, his tongue dipping briefly inside her ear and over its lobe in a manner that caused her to whimper. How could he affect her this way when he had done so little?  
  
Eventually he focused only on her mouth, his repeated kisses as light and gentle as his embrace, sending sweet shivers over her flesh in gleeful little ripples. She clung to him, molding herself to his masculine contours, urging him to grow bolder, and within moments his tongue nudged between her lips, at first polite, then hotly insistent, searching and aggressive. For a long while their tongues mated, a dance within a dance, a shared consummation of mutual hunger while she melted against him, gripping him for balance, her thoughts scattered in blissful delirium. Kisses, kisses, and still more kisses that seemed to last forever. And then . . .  
  
An easy turn of his wrist, and the fastenings on her gown were undone, and it was sliding down, his hands assisting so that it pooled on the floor at her feet. Her heart thudding, she waited for him to speak, for she had purposely worn nothing underneath and wondered what he thought of that. His keen eyes roved over her, and for a moment she actually felt shy, and would have covered herself but for the fact that he reached for her hands and held them away while he gazed at her body.  
  
"How beautiful you are," he said, his voice hushed and wondering. "I have always known it, and yet the sight of you intoxicates me more than the finest wine could ever do. Stay, let me look at you."  
  
He circled her leisurely, touching her as he went, making a cultivated tour of her curves that grew progressively more intimate. His fingers skimmed down her back, over her hip, dipping low and then up, around and then over her pale golden flesh. Her eyes fluttered shut as she quivered, barely able to stay upright from the weakness pervading her limbs. One hand on her breast, he lifted her hair off her shoulder and put his mouth where it had lain, spreading shivery kisses over her flesh and the sensitive curve of her neck. "And so the dance begins," he whispered, nipping her earlobe.  
  
"What should I do?" She tried to reach for him, but he only smiled.  
  
"Nothing yet. Right now, the dance is slow. Let me lead."  
  
One hand on her back, he bent down, and she drew in a sharp breath as his mouth covered first one nipple, then the other, then returned to the first to tug and suckle while his other hand slid between her thighs. He supported her while she swayed and moaned, responding helplessly to his touch, then he straightened and lifted her in his arms, twirling her around with a low, exultant laugh, holding her snugly against him.  
  
"Already your passion reveals itself, my lovely Adrina. You are an able student."  
  
"You are an able teacher," she retorted with a smile.  
  
He laughed and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her again and again, deep, possessive kisses she felt all the way to her toes.  
  
She lay on the bed while he disrobed, mesmerized by the sight of his perfect body with its well-defined muscles and elegant contours. He was stunning, even more beautiful than she had imagined, graceful and sleek as a cat, and she told him this as he lay down beside her and rolled onto his side. He laughed and made a purring sound in his throat, a sound that thrummed the song in her blood and made her reach for him, pressing herself close.  
  
For awhile they kissed, then his hand covered hers, where it rested on his chest, exerting a slight downward pressure. "Touch me," he said softly. "Just a little, to start."  
  
He was fully erect and larger than she'd imagined, velvet softness sheathing the hardness of rock. With mounting excitement, she took hold of him, finding herself aroused in a way she had not expected, the feel of his male virility causing the blood to sing fast in her veins. Stroking him gently, and then more firmly, she noted the quiver of his facial muscles and the quickened cadence of his breathing. It seemed even her unskilled talents were enough to give him pleasure, and the knowledge filled her with intense satisfaction.  
  
The time passed, but she took no note, for she lay deep in his embrace while they gained knowledge of each other, exploring with eager hands, their kisses as frequent as their murmured endearments. The night continued, the beam of moonlight shifted, and the tempo of the dance increased.  
  
Time had stopped. She lay writhing beneath his hands, his mouth devouring her, taking command of her most sensitive places with unerring expertise, heightening her pleasure to a near frenzy. "Haldir," she gasped, reaching for him.  
  
He lifted his head. "What, my love?" He moved to lie beside her once more, his arm drawing her close. "Tell me. I want to hear."  
  
"You slay me," she panted. "You torment me. I cannot bear this."  
  
"Sweetling," he murmured, his voice like liquid honey, "this is the dance. Will you lead for awhile?"  
  
"I don't know what to do."  
  
"Yes, you do," he said softly. "Use your knowledge of me. You know me."  
  
She knew he was right; she did know him. In her heart, she knew what to do, she had dreamed of it often enough. She wanted to see him as she had been, fraught with need, unable to speak, able only to feel, his senses straining and out of control. Shifting lower, she grasped him again and touched him with her tongue, smiling as his powerful body jerked in response. He was incredibly beautiful, even this part of him, this male part of his physique that she tasted and teased while he moaned and shuddered in the still of the night, his muscles bunching and tensing in accordance with the choreography of her actions. That he allowed her to see him like this, his eyes half closed and nearly helpless with need, touched her heart deeply; she felt potent and feminine, a goddess with authority, a partner worthy of his love. His protector, in a way. The keeper of his secrets.  
  
In due course, he halted her, his hands sliding under her arms to draw her to him as easily as if she were an elfling. He twisted her around and onto her back, settling himself between her legs, his mouth fastening on hers so quickly that he must have been able to taste the salty tang of himself on her lips. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands stroking the broad expanse of his back, the hard, taut muscles and smooth skin beneath her palms. She widened her legs, laying herself open to him, a mute invitation that brought a growl to his throat, a wordless sound that told her the dance neared its finish.  
  
He kissed her some more, her mouth, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, then returned to her mouth and kissed her again, this time lightly, his smoldering eyes searching hers. "The moon is at its fullest," he whispered, "and I am ready. Are you, Adrina? Are you ready, my bright, shining star?"  
  
"I am on fire for you, my love." She gazed up into the glitter of his smoky eyes, her fingers lacing convulsively through the silver curtain of his hair. "Will it hurt?"  
  
"It might. Just this once." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You must tell me what you feel. I want to know."  
  
He held himself above her, gazing down at her attentively, the tiny beads of perspiration on his brow telling of his self-restraint as he positioned himself at her opening. The hot ache inside her expanded as he pressed himself forward, pushing steadily and gently into her wetness, then came the burning, stretching sensation that ended with a quick, tearing pain as he broke through her maiden's barrier. He paused, his muscles trembling. "Tell me," he urged, a raw edge to his voice.  
  
She clutched at his arms, her fingers digging into his flesh. "It is over, the pain is over. Please do not stop."  
  
The dance grew wild as he penetrated her fully, driving his whole length into her, and then withdrawing almost immediately only to push forward again. This was it, then, the culmination she had dreamed of for so long, the end of the dance, the beginning of the next phase in her life. A part of her mind took note of it all while the rest of her thrilled to his impassioned possession of her, her back arching and her hips lifting so as to derive the greatest pleasure from the surging force of his thrusts. And then at last it came to her, the gift of release, an almost overpowering rapture that tore a moan from her throat the likes of which she had never before uttered. Shudder after shudder rocked through her as he rammed into her once, twice, three more times . . . and then his breath sucked in and he made a sound, a hoarse, ragged cry of ecstasy, and she knew that they had found it together, the fiery pinnacle of their dance.  
  
They collapsed into a tangle of limbs, still panting, almost laughing, a smile on both their faces as they gazed into each other's eyes. And as he held her close, whispering of his great love for her, he asked her the question she had hungered to hear. All was well. Her dearest friend would forever be her partner in the endless dance of life. The crescendo she had waited for all these years had arrived.  
  
Haldir of Lórien was hers.  
  
THE END  
  
[FEEDBACK APPRECIATED] 


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